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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28123470">January Was a Top Hat</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/rons_pigwidgeon/pseuds/MsCaptainWinchester'>MsCaptainWinchester (rons_pigwidgeon)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>25 Days of Spideypool Christmas 2020 [15]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Attempted Seduction, Calendar Photoshoot, Lingerie, M/M, Oblivious Peter Parker, Photographer Peter Parker, Wade Wilson in Lingerie</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-11 00:20:14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,101</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28123470</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/rons_pigwidgeon/pseuds/MsCaptainWinchester</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Wade hired him to shoot his holiday calendar on the pretense that it was for charity, but it's really just an excuse to show off his holiday-themed lingerie and seduce his favorite nerd. Peter is a consummate professional. Unfortunately.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Peter Parker/Wade Wilson</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>25 Days of Spideypool Christmas 2020 [15]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2025320</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>205</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>January Was a Top Hat</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This story was written based off a prompt submitted to my tumblr anonymously. The original prompt: Wade hires Peter as his Christmas postcard photographer. He changes into increasingly sexy outfits. Peter is in photographer mode. Finally, Wade just blurts out how he doesn't need a photographer. He just used the excuse to try to seduce Peter with Christmas lingerie.<br/>-<br/>I switched out post card for a calendar. I hope this still fits what you were looking for, anonymous!</p><p>EDIT: Because there were none performed on this story prior to posting and it <i>showed</i>. Edits have now been made, but if I missed anything, as always, please let me know! Thanks for reading!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>When Wade let Peter into the studio he’d rented, Peter was weighed down by no less than three giant carrying case, a backpack, and a camera bag slung around his neck. He didn’t look like the heavy equipment weighed anything as he maneuvered through the door and deposited it all in front of the set. “Okay, it’s gonna take me about 15-20 minutes to get the lighting and everything set up. Is that enough time for you to get ready for the first set-up?” he asked, turning to Wade with a professional ease.</p><p>“Yes, definitely. I’ll go do that, and you… get yourself ready.” Wade winked, hoping to make him blush. Peter just nodded and turned away to start unzipping equipment bags and pulling out massive lights.</p><p>“Okay, then,” Wade sing-songed to himself, turning to go get ready. Operation seduce photo boy was a go.</p>
<hr/>
<p>January was a top hat, tuxedo-themed corset with a giant white corsage, and high-cut gold lame panties. Wade stood center-stage with his legs spread, braced on a cane while he tipped his hat, a sheet of silver sequins glittering in the lights behind him. He knew he looked damn good, dominant, ready to start the year right.</p><p>Peter gave him directions every once in a while, the shutter of the camera the only other noise. After he’d taken what had to be several dozen shots, Peter walked over to show him the stills, face pinched in concentration. His eyes didn’t even rake over Wade <em>once.</em> “I think we’ve got some good ones here, probably enough to move on. What do you think?”</p><p>Wade frowned but looked when Peter turned the camera viewfinder to him and showed him the pictures. “I’m planning to Photoshop a giant 2021 behind you in the final picture. I’ll give you a couple of font styles to pick from, don’t worry,” Peter assured him.</p><p>The pictures were perfect. Frustratingly perfect. Wade could start a forest fire with these pictures. Why wasn’t Peter taking the bait? Maybe he just needed a little more revealing look at the goods.</p><p>Wade agreed to move on and went back to the dressing room to change while Peter redressed the set.</p><p>When he back came out, he was wearing a red mesh bodysuit with silver sequin hearts over his nipples and barely-contained dick. He’d glued little glitter hearts at the corners of his eye make-up to match that picked up the light and highlighted his eyes—at least he’d thought they did when he looked in the dressing room mirror. The set was now pink with hanging red hearts that swayed under the air vents. In the middle sat a giant heart-shaped couch.</p><p>“Where’d you find that?” Wade asked, impressed. His heart sped up a little. That was definitely the kind of couch you fucked on.</p><p>“Storage room. They’ve got a lot of weird furniture. I’m excited for what they have in there for Arbor Day.” Peter grinned at him, waggling his eyebrows. Well, that was promising, wasn’t it?</p><p>Wade slid elegantly onto the red velvet heart couch and draped himself over the back, lifting one red glittery high heel to prop on the edge so he could drape his arm over his knee. Peter fussed over him, adjusting his post and the drape of the bodysuit. Wade kept hoping for a lingering hand or surreptitious grope, but every touch was completely professional.</p><p>Peter walked over to the camera and disappeared behind it, his fluffy brown hair the only visible part of him as the shutter started going again.</p><p>The scene repeated itself. Peter took pictures. Wade changed poses with Peter’s direction. Peter showed him the fu-cking perfect pictures. Wade went to the dressing room to change while Peter redressed the set. Not even a side-eye of appreciation. What the fuck.</p><p>An itty bitty St. Patty’s Day bikini had to do the trick, right? He even had a pot of gold over his dick. How could Peter resist?</p><p>Consummate Fucking Professionalism, that’s how. Wade didn’t stomp back to the dressing room after, but he wanted to in his heart. Was he going to have to bend over and shake his ass to get Peter to bite?</p><p>April was fuzzy white bunny ears and a matching bra and panty set decorated like Easter eggs that made his pecks look A-Maz-Ing. Peter quirked a smile when he saw it and ducked behind the camera without comment.</p><p>The pan flag g-string he tucked his dick in did nothing for Peter either, apparently, but it looked great against the explosion of rainbows on the backdrop for June.</p><p>July had him straddling an American flag in maple leaf pasties, red hot pants, and a Mounty hat, using a hockey stick as a balancing agent. Peter had chuckled when he saw the outfit and hummed the Canadian National Anthem, but not a glint of interest. Not a fucking <em>glint</em>.</p><p>Wade was getting desperate by October. There had to be at least a flicker of interest over the bat pasties paired with matching sheer black tutu over crotch-less nylons and bat g-string. Peter took one look at the mini pumpkins and fell over himself laughing. “Those are great,” he said, wiping tears from his eyes. Wade thanked him, but inside his head he was screaming agony.   </p><p>The turkey mini-dress was honestly his best work. It flared out just perfectly over his ass. He was even wearing feather eyelashes, for fuck’s sake. He looked like a whole circle of hell wrapped up in delicious Thanksgiving dinner. Peter took pictures like he was the blandest mediocre middle-aged white man without even a lingering hand.</p><p>Skimpy Frosty was Wade’s last straw. He’d paired it with white thigh-highs held up by a garter belt just visible under the improbably tiny white lace panties that only barely covered his dick enough to not count as porn. There was no denying his hotness. Peter’s dick had to be broken. That was the only explanation.</p><p>Wade flopped back on the couch with a dramatic sigh. “I’m not hot enough for you. That’s gotta be it,” he said, throwing his hands up in defeat.</p><p>Peter popped up from behind the camera with a frown. “What do you mean? You look amazing. These pictures are going to make so much money for the children’s hospital. You’re going to help so many kids.”</p><p>“I already donated a mil to the kiddos. I meant for you. I was trying to seduce you via holiday-themed lingerie, but you’re obviously not into it. You’re being all professional over there.” He waved a dismissive hand at him, still lounging across the back of the couch with a pout.</p><p>Peter’s frown deepened, his hands slowly falling away from the camera. “Of course I’m being professional. You’re paying me?” He sounded so adorably confused.</p><p>“And you’re not a little bit tempted by all this?” Wade sat up, posing sexily and indicating himself.</p><p>Peter blinked at him. The little wrinkle between his brows got deeper. “Are you not making a calendar?” he asked instead of answering.</p><p>“Of course, you already took the pictures. Like I’m going to deprive the world of all this hotness. That’s not the point.”</p><p>“Okay, good. I think we’ve got enough pictures for that, then. Do you want to get dressed while I pack up?” he asked, already starting to unscrew his camera from the tripod and starting to dismantle it to tuck away in its bag. Wade stared at him in disbelief. He wasn’t going to respond to Wade’s blatant propositions at all? Not even to let him down gently? Fine, then. He could find some other hot twink to enjoy his calendar of lingerie.</p><p>If he stomped a little harder in his sky-high white heels than was strictly necessary, could anyone really blame him?”</p><p>By the time he’d washed his make-up off and packed up all the clothes and accessories and glamour accoutrement and come out in his street clothes, heart in his throat and feeling dejected, Peter had the lights down and packed up and was carrying the final piece of furniture to the storage locker. Wade contemplated dropping the keys and cash payment on his camera bag and heading out without saying goodbye, but he knew that wasn’t going to win him any potential for future friendship. Stupid as it sounded, he still sort of wanted that, even if he wasn’t in fact going to get railed over a heart-shaped sofa by the cutest twink he’d ever seen.</p><p>Peter came back out wiping his hands on his jeans. “Dusty in there. You all packed up, too? Give me a minute to pack mule all this and we can walk out together.” He started pulling straps over his shoulders, still talking, “I’m really excited to get these pictures on my computer and really perfect them. This calendar is going to look amazing.”</p><p>Wade took a deep breath and pushed passed his own disappointment. If he was going to stay friends with this hot little nerd, he had to stop pouting. “I’m sure you’re going to make me look even better than I already do,” he said.</p><p>Peter’s cheeks turned pink. He shuffled through the door Wade held open for him, glancing up at Wade under fluttering eyelashes. <em>Unfair</em>. “You really donated a million dollars to the children’s hospital?”</p><p>Wade shrugged. “I didn’t get it doing good guy shit. Might as well turn the blood money into saving kids money.”</p><p>“Still shouldn’t do bad-guy stuff, but I can’t argue the end result.”</p><p>They chatted amiably all the way down to the street and parted with an awkward good-bye. Wade sent him the money for the shoot and after edits on his walk fifty blocks home—If he wasn’t getting railed, he had to burn off the pent-up tension somehow.</p><p>The edited pictures were in his inbox three days later. A week later, the calendar proof was finished. Wade sent in his notes without the flirtatious notes he might have given BS (Before Shoot. If his new name for the Incident also happened to express his sentiments on the matter, more the better).</p>
<hr/>
<p>Two days later, Wade had the final edits in his inbox. He was just thumbing through the file when a knock sounded on his front door. He frowned at it, not expecting anyone. When he looked through the peep hole, his hot tamale of a twinkie was standing on his doormat. He whipped the door open so fast it created wind.</p><p>“I’ve fulfilled all my obligations for our agreement, right? Gave you the edited pictures. The calendar edits are done and just need to go to printing, which is not on me. You’ve paid me what we agreed. The transaction’s done, yes?” Peter asked in way of greeting.</p><p>Wade was confused, but nodded slowly. “Yeah, we’re good.”</p><p>“Great. Because you’re the biggest fucking idiot I know, and we’re gonna break your fucking bed,” Peter said, most of it coming out as one long word as he shoved Wade backwards into the apartment, slammed the door behind the two of them, and kissed him so filthy Wade felt it in his <em>toes</em>.</p><p>When he pulled back, his mouth was red and his hair was a mess from Wade’s hands, but his eyes were burning like a bonfire. “Do not ever mix work and pleasure again. I thought my boner was going to pop out of my pants and drag me over to that stupid couch to fuck you. These last two weeks have been full fucking torture. Never again,” Peter told him, stern-faced and clearly annoyed.</p><p>“Okay, I promise. Why couldn’t you have just fucked me then? I told you that was the goal.”</p><p>Peter game him a sharp look. “I’m not putting my dick before my business ethics, and fuck you for thinking I would.”</p><p>Wade didn’t get it, but wasn’t going to argue. “You could if you wanted to?”</p><p>“I do and I’m going to. Get in the bedroom.” Peter smacked him on the ass with the full force of a superhero and shot him towards the bedroom at lightning speed.</p><p>“Fuck, okay, good goddamn you’re hot when you’re mad.”</p><p>Peter glared, following him. “And get that stupid St. Patrick’s Day outfit out. You nearly killed me with that shit.”</p><p>“Yes sir!” Wade squealed, giddy as a school girl and ready for the fucking of his life.</p>
<hr/>
<p>The calendar sold out on Wade’s merch store in  two minutes and ended up going through three re-prints. Peter made him donate all the proceeds to the children’s hospital. He was too fucked-out to argue.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I do not consent to my stories being listed on Goodreads or other book platforms.</p><p>If you want writing updates from me, you can follow me on Twitter <a href="https://twitter.com/RonsPigwidgeon">@RonsPigwidgeon</a>, <a href="https://mscaptainwinchester.tumblr.com/">Tumblr</a>, <a href="https://mscaptainwinchester.newtumbl.com/">NewTumbl</a>, or <a href="https://www.pillowfort.io/MsCaptainWinchester">Pillowfort</a>.</p><p>And if you'd like to come yell about my main ship, Spideypool, with me, join the 18+ Discord server I co-mod, <a href="https://discord.gg/w6UyAn7">Isn't It Bromantic</a>!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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